


i hate you.

by yodalorian



Series: after all [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e07 Zuko Alone, Gen, POV Zuko (Avatar), Post-Canon, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, a little angsty, trauma :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodalorian/pseuds/yodalorian
Summary: "Zuko reached out and lifted off the mask. He almost didn’t recognize the face. It was longer, more lined and worn. Scars to match Zuko’s. His eyes were dull, with barely a spark of mischievousness left in them. His impish grin had hardened into a grim line, hiding his crooked teeth."A decade later, Zuko is on a mission to heal the last scars of the war. But there's one more scarred boy, one that Zuko just might be responsible for. An old friend, and a new adversary.
Relationships: Lee & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: after all [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942849
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	i hate you.

**Author's Note:**

> back again with an atla oneshot instead of working on my wips

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Aang, I swear, I’ll be fine.”

Aang sighed, tapping his fingers nervously on the map spread out in front of him. Red circles were scattered throughout it, each a town that had not yet forgiven the war and was still hostile to the Fire Nation, even a decade after the war had ended. There were only a few, and Zuko was proud of that. But he wouldn’t rest until there were no circles left, and the last bits of hatred were swept away. He saw no better way to do that than to have the Fire Lord himself show up and apologize.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Aang still didn’t want to let it drop. “Having me with you could be helpful.”

“I’m sure. I’m taking only a few guards. Any more, let alone the  _ Avatar,  _ would be interpreted as a show of force. And that’s the last thing I want.”

“Isn’t it my job to make peace and all that?”

“I’ll be fine. You have a lot of other things to take care of.” 

“If you say so.” Aang never really could stop being concerned. “Don’t get assassinated, please?”

Zuko allowed a wry smile. “I’ll try my best.”

* * *

Their ostrich horses plodded through the dust, snuffling and snorting. The sun was hot and high, baking the clay ground. Ozai probably would have lost his mind at the sight of his heir traveling like a peasant. Zuko had left the regalia behind, wearing only simple black robes lined with red. The only thing that distinguished him as the Fire Lord was the golden crown set into his topknot. His two guards were only lightly armed, and looked uncomfortable and nervous. But they were going to have to get used to the new way things went around here.

They rode past endless brown, dry fields. Zuko saw grimy faces peering out at him, which quickly pulled back and slammed shut windows as he drew near. He dreamed of the day when they would open instead. But getting to that day would be a long, hard road. Undoing the sins of a century.

The ostrich horses stopped in the center of the village Tianping. Mayor Jiang was waiting to greet them. He had his best clothes on, but they were caked in the gritty dust that got everywhere around here and looked like they were in fashion when great grandfather Sozin was ruling. But Zuko wasn’t here to judge, and he dismounted and returned Jiang’s deep bow.

“Welcome, Fire Lord Zuko. It is an honor,” Jiang said. His words were polite enough, but there was a hardness set into his face. Zuko doubted the mayor liked him any more than everyone else here did.

“The honor is mine,” Zuko replied. “I am here as your servant. I will use all the resources I have to pay reparations for what can be replaced, and offer my deepest sympathies for what cannot be replaced.”

Jiang’s brow furrowed, still trying to decide if Zuko was as sincere as he seemed. “Very well. The people have agreed to come forward with their complaints beginning tomorrow.”

Zuko nodded. He planned to stay a week, doing the best he could to help rebuild. It wasn’t nearly enough time, but there were enough shattered villages for a lifetime.

He followed Jiang to his house, sitting down with his family to eat a meal of stringy chicken, hard rice, and floppy cabbage. The guards whispered warnings of poison, but Zuko waved off their concerns. Here, he would need to rely on trust.

Zuko was up before dawn, standing in the center of town. His guards held back, trying not to intimidate. A loose crowd had gathered, Earth Kingdom peasants staring at him. They didn’t seem to know what to do with the Fire Lord standing amidst their hovels. Zuko tried to arrange his face into a welcoming smile, but none of them seemed to want to be the first to step forward.

Finally, an old woman hobbled towards him. Her expression was fierce, almost daring him to laugh at her. She looked like someone with nothing left to lose. “Your soldiers burned down my house. I’ve lived in a makeshift shelter since. Debt collectors are going to take away what little I have left.” She spat each word like Zuko was personally responsible.

“I am deeply sorry,  _ nai nai, _ “ Zuko said. He handed her a silk pouch heavy with golden  _ yuanbao.  _ “I hope this will cover your debts.”

She clutched it in her thin hands. It was probably more money than she had ever held in her lifetime. With one last furtive glance at Zuko, she held the money close to her chest and darted away, as if scared he would snatch it back at any moment.

After one had come, the floodgates opened. A line of desperate people hoping for some generosity quickly formed. Zuko was battered by endless stories of tragedy and destruction. Some stories were shouted; others were whispered through throats hoarsened by sobs. All were defined by things lost, gaping holes that could never quite be filled. But Zuko tried anyway. He gave money and offered condolences, knowing how painfully weak these gestures were. 

At the end of the day, he numbly started walking back to Jiang’s house. He waved his guards off; he could find the way by himself. Besides, he wanted to be alone. His heart was heavy with the concentrated grief of the whole village.

Zuko was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t notice the shifting shadows until it was almost too late. He stumbled backwards as a silver blade whistled through the night, grazing his throat. For a fleeting second, he thought the Blue Spirit had come for him. But he obviously couldn’t be attacked by his own alter ego, and besides this mask was much cruder and pale gray instead. Still, Zuko’s assailant was similarly wrapped in black leather, and wielded his dual broadswords with a strangely familiar style.

Zuko did his best to dodge this assassin’s swift slashes, but whoever had trained him had done well. He bore down on Zuko, relentless. Zuko had no way of fighting back: both arming himself and firebending would have threatened his delicate mission. All he could do was rely on his own training to nimbly dodge out of the way, but he couldn’t keep this up forever.

Fortunately, his guards had decided to tail him anyway. They leaped into the fray, drawing their own gleaming  _ dao.  _ The assassin could see he was outnumbered and outmatched. Quickly, he turned and vanished back into the shadows. 

“Are you alright, sir?” a guard asked gruffly.

“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“Sir...it’s clearly not safe for you here. I suggest we leave.”

“What? No. I’m not going to be intimidated by—“

“Someone wants you dead!”

“There is always someone who wants me dead,” Zuko snapped. “I came here for a reason, and I’m going to stay until I’ve done it.” 

The guard clearly still wasn’t convinced, but he remembered that Ozai would have incinerated him already, and he didn’t want to push his luck. “As you wish, sir.

* * *

The next day passed in much the same way. An endless string of tragedy, with Zuko doing what he could to clean up the aftermath. It felt like trying to firebend in the face of an avalanche. As the molten yellow sun dropped towards the rocky horizon again, Zuko made his way back, closely tailed by his guards this time. But tonight, there was no one waiting to jump out at him from the shadows.

Zuko tossed and turned on the lumpy mat that night. How was he supposed to reverse the evils of the past? A century of violence left scars that might not heal even after millennia. He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of shadows he could never outrun.

A cat owl cried softly outside his window, making its bizarre cross between a meow and a hoot. It was enough to jolt Zuko out of his slumber, and he awoke to find the tip of a sword pressed against his throat.

The same pale, gray mask loomed out of the darkness. Zuko stared back into the empty eye sockets. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” the voice growled. “I’m here to bring justice.”

“Then go ahead and do it.”

A long moment passed, both of them locked into this confrontation. “No,” the mask snarled. “No! Fight back!” 

The tip of the blade dug deeper into Zuko’s neck. He could feel a trickle of warm blood. He didn’t move.

“Come on!” the assassin roared. “Defend yourself, you coward! Firebend!”

In this cramped room, trying to firebend would probably kill them both and burn down the rest of the dry wooden house too. Zuko didn’t say or do anything. He just kept his gaze locked on the expressionless mask, trying to figure out the rising fury behind it.

The assassin screamed with frustration. He jerked his sword away and raised it high. Instinct took over. Zuko deftly rolled out of the way as the blade tore through his sleeping mat. Twirling his gleaming swords, the assassin charged again. Zuko’s fingers fumbled in his bag, searching for the one thing he had brought that he could defend himself with. Not because he had planned to fight, but because he had only parted with it once.

His fingers found the smooth handle. As the assassin bore down on him, Zuko pulled it from its sheath. His whole arm shuddered with the impact as the assassin’s dual swords slammed into the dagger.

Zuko’s small blade shouldn’t have held up against two swords. But somehow, it did. The assassin could’ve easily pulled one of his blades away and plunged it into Zuko’s stomach. But he didn’t. The dagger glowed in the soft moonlight. Its inscription was facing the assassin.  _ Never give up without a fight. _

The assassin stood so still he might as well have turned to stone. Then, he trembled. Silent sobs wracked his thin shoulders. Zuko knew who his attacker was. He gently pushed the swords out of the way, and the assassin let them clatter to the floor. 

Zuko reached out and lifted off the mask. He almost didn’t recognize the face. It was longer, more lined and worn. Scars to match Zuko’s. His eyes were dull, with barely a spark of mischievousness left in them. His impish grin had hardened into a grim line, hiding his crooked teeth.

“Lee,” Zuko breathed. Even after a decade, the memories were still fresh. Those two fleeting days remained always at the edge of his mind. The boy who didn’t see Zuko as an outcast, or a traitor, or a villain, just a stranger in need of a home. The impromptu sword training session in the whispering fields under the cool night sky. The roiling flames that he unleashed on this village, but not nearly as hot as the burning shame when Lee refused to take the dagger back. The last thing Lee had said to him, just three little words, had pierced his heart and stayed there.  _ I hate you. _

Lee’s eyes finally met Zuko’s, hard with hatred. Tears pooled in them. “Do you know what happened after you left?” Lee hissed. “My family and I, we were pariahs. All because we helped you, the  _ enemy.  _ Turns out my brother did die in the war after all. And then my parents did too. So now here I am, alone and friendless, but not without a purpose. I will have my vengeance.” 

Despite the venom brimming in his voice, Lee’s hands trembled. He tried to set his jaw, but his breath came in ragged gasps.

Zuko looked at him. There was only one thing Zuko knew to say. He had repeated it a thousand times that day, but this time he especially meant it. “I’m sorry. Lee, I’m so, so sorry.”

Zuko reached out and pulled Lee into a tight embrace. Lee whimpered a little in protest, clutching at the last bits of his fury, but he melted into Zuko’s arms. They stayed that way for the rest of the night, Zuko holding Lee’s thin shuddering frame, until the sun rose and the guards found their master hugging a strange young man.

* * *

“Are you really here to help?”

They were sitting quietly around Zuko’s torn sleeping mat. Jiang had decided not to ask what the hell happened last night, and just gave them some crumbly dry cakes for breakfast and then left quickly.

“I think you know that I am,” Zuko replied.

Lee chewed silently for a moment. “Throwing money at us is good, but it’s not enough.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

“Follow me.”

Lee led Zuko through the dusty streets, out of town. Far out of town, farther than Zuko would’ve thought to venture. They pushed through fields of withered crops that snapped under their feet, and Zuko noticed every blackened husk of a farm building.

“We don’t just need money; we need extra hands,” Lee said. “Too many are gone or crippled from the war.” He glanced at Zuko. “Can you help, Fire Lord?”

“I’ll do my best.”

They came near an old wooden shed that looked on the brink of collapse. Lee bent down and hefted a rusty iron plow out of the dirt. It was badly bent out of shape. He braced it against a wooden block nearby and held out a heavy hammer towards Zuko.

Instead, Zuko knelt down next to it. He pressed his fingers to the iron, and they tingled with the familiar energy. The metal glowed deep red as it heated, softening. Carefully, Zuko bent it back into shape.

Lee dropped the hammer. “That works too, I guess.” Zuko smirked.

Together, they got to work. Others noticed and soon joined them in toiling under the hot sun. They picked up the pieces of the village and put it back together, bit by bit. It was impossible for Zuko not to think about how Lee’s father was the first person who showed him how to use a hammer. Now here he was again, a decade later, but still with battered thumbs and bent nails. Things worked out funny that way. He couldn’t help repair Lee’s barn this time, but maybe he could help repair someone else’s.

The week passed quickly. Zuko would’ve stayed, but there were other villages that needed help too. He promised to send some people soon. Surely Toph could spare a couple metalbenders who would be extremely helpful.

Zuko and his guards mounted their ostrich horses. People lined the street to watch him leave, but this time it wasn’t with bitterness. Cautious optimism, maybe even hope. And this time, Zuko wasn’t alone. 

Lee walked up and scratched Zuko’s mount’s feathers a little. “I guess this is goodbye, Fire Lord.”

“We’ll see each other again. I’ll come back soon.” Zuko hesitated, and then pulled out the pearl-handled dagger from his bag. “It’s still yours.”

Lee took it, running a finger along the shining blade.  _ Never give up without a fight.  _ He shook his head. “I don’t need this. I’ve already learned this lesson the hard way. And I certainly don’t need it to remember you.”

“It was taken from the Earth Kingdom, and I think it should come back home. If you don’t need it, then give it to someone who does. Please.”

After a moment, Lee nodded. “Alright. I’ll find someone. Thank you, Fire Lord. Zuko.”

Zuko smiled a little, and begrudgingly, Lee returned the smile. He waved as Zuko’s ostrich horse snorted and started marching forward, into the sunrise.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jedioncer?lang=en)  
> to hear me yell about other dumb things


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